


In for a Penalty in for a Pound

by HeartOfTheMirror



Series: On Thin Ice [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Betrayal, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, National Hockey League, News Media, Outing, Past Relationships, Public Relations, Team Dynamics, sports au made for people who aren't into sports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/pseuds/HeartOfTheMirror
Summary: Bucky Barnes has everything he ever wanted. He's his NHL team's newest media darling. He's finally been bumped up to first line. There's a glimmer of a chance his team may even see the post-season. Now if only Bucky's captain and best friend could admit that he wanted to bend Bucky over in the penalty box, that would be great.





	1. In Deep

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to [Superheroresin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superheroresin/pseuds/superheroresin) for her help and encouragement with this!
> 
> You don't have to know anything about hockey to read this fic but you may want to read the prequel in the series which sets a lot of groundwork and is heavily referenced throughout the chapters to come. You could probably get by without it but you'd be missing a lot.

It felt good to have the camera lens on him; the weight of the hot, bright lights marking him out. Bucky sometimes thought he could make a career of this, in the years after his body made it clear that staying in the NHL was no longer an option. 

Being in front of the camera, drawing people in, flirting just enough to captivate the ladies without alienating the straight boys. It was a second calling. 

The Commandos' marketing director had been whispering with Bucky’s agent for the whole shoot, working out the details of how they wanted to represent him and the Commandos through him. _Too sexy? Too boring? Family friendly but alluring?,_ he imagined them saying.

The rest of the team was there- or at least the ones with recognizable names and handsome faces. Only a few other guys had their agents milling around behind the lights and wires, though. Bucky’s image was much more carefully maintained than most. In part because of Eliza, in part because of Bucky’s own half-formed ideas about what he’d like to do in his retirement years, but mostly because of how much the camera loved Bucky and how many people wanted to use that simple fact for their own purposes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw the marketing director sneak up behind the photographer and start whispering in his ear. Bucky’s stomach clenched, not that anyone could tell behind his cashmere sweater and patented smile. That woman was too crafty for her own good. It made her great at her job- manipulating people into loving a team that was little different from any other except for how exceptionally awful it was (the Commandos had one of the most loyal fan bases in the NHL for some strange reason). But it also made Bucky uneasy. 

“Okay now, Steve,” the photographer called, “come over here and lean your elbow on James’s shoulder.”

“Sure thing,” Steve said with a dorky little smile. Bucky was too practiced in the art of being somebody else to stiffen at the suggestion. Aside from post-goal cellys when the whole team piled on Bucky like a basket full of excited puppies, he and Steve didn’t really touch anymore. Bucky had even taken up learning Russian so that he could turn his back to Steve in the locker room and talk to Volodya instead.

Bucky froze exactly where he was, perched on a trendy red metal stool with his knees splayed and his feet resting on the horizontal metal rails rather than the floor. 

They were still friends, of course. They ate together sometimes, played Halo and Mario Kart and fiercely competitive DDR (though Bucky was the unquestionable champion there). But they never hung out alone if they could help it, and Bucky was beginning to think he’d only imagined the feeling of Steve’s skin touching his own.

The hard boney weight of Steve’s elbow landed on Bucky’s shoulder, adjusting awkwardly as if he could make this less painful for the both of them.

“Fantastic!” the photographer was calling enthusiastically. “Now, James- big grin, you’re excited to be here with your long time idol! Steve, give me that confident smile you do so well!” They both morphed their expressions to suit as the photographer called out little adjustments. Steve was too stiff, as always, and Bucky was perfect but the hair and makeup woman, Eleanor, had to fluff his hair so he could cock his head boyishly without it falling in his eyes. Lu, the gushing college student and underpaid intern, changed the color of the huge paper backdrop behind them while the marketing manager and Bucky’s agent cooed together in a corner.

The photographer snapped photos in rapid succession, from different angles, checkingthe camera display and telling them to make minute adjustments. It was torture. And just when Bucky thought they were done the man said,

“Now James, put that leather jacket back on. You’re going to be the bad boy we can take home to meet mom. Think Gilmore Girls, but more rugged, but still approachable. Steve, I want you to throw you arm around James’s neck and pretend to ruffle his hair but **don’t** _actually_ ruffle his hair m’kay?” With only the smallest of withering glances at Steve, who was much more obvious about his discomfort, but reached for the discarded leather jacket, which Lu handed to him with a deep blush.

…

“That photoshoot was supposed to be about the _team_ ,” Steve seethed on the drive back to the First Niagara Center. The guys had all agreed to take one of the team’s vans and carpool to the photoshoot since pretty much none of them aside from Steve and Bucky could actually be relied upon to show up at the right place at the right time unless there was an arena full of beered-up fans waiting for them.

Bucky was sitting in the passenger seat because he got awful car sickness if he didn’t have a window seat. Half the guys were asleep in the back and the other half were neck deep in their iPods, cell phones, and DSs. Ignoring Steve’s righteous indignation had become practically an art in that crowd. 

Bucky just shrugged, watching buildings pass and not looking over at his captain. He’d heard the marketing manager on the phone with the journalist who was writing the article. “Mr. Perfect and his Bad Boy Protege,” was the title they were working on for the piece when Bucky had rushed out the door. 

Of course, Bucky loved the attention he was getting from the media but he wished he could be paired up with one of the other legendary players on the team from time to time. Like Morita, or Jones.

“They want to turn us into Batman and Robin,” Steve said indignantly. 

“So?” Bucky asked, risking a quick glance over. “At least we’re not Harley Quinn and the Joker.” Bucky gave a theatrical shudder that actually did coax a laugh out of Steve, Bucky was proud to note.

“Easy for you to say,” Steve muttered when the laughter had passed. “I’m pretty sure you’re Batman,” Bucky smirked, and then, goddamn him, opened his mouth without thinking.

“Don’t worry Stevie, you can rock the lime green hot pants.” Steve turned scarlet as fast as if he’d been dipped in vermilion ink.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” Steve shot back lamely, nearly running a red light in his state of extreme distraction.

“Oh, we will?” Bucky asked, positively delighted, and much like Steve, absolutely unable to stop himself from digging the hole deeper.

“Jerk,” Steve muttered, pointedly not looking away from the road. “Have you been watching our division stats?” he eventually asked in an undertone.

Bucky checked over his shoulder to make sure the rest of the guys were still suitably distracted. He wasn't even sure why except that something in Steve’s tone suggested that he should. There were four divisions in the NHL: Pacific, Central, Atlantic, and Metropolitan. The three best teams from each division competed for a shot at the Stanley Cup in the post-season. 

The Commandos were in the Atlantic division, which meant they were competing against crazy good teams like the Boston Avengers, the Tampa Bay Lightning (whose Captain had such a mean slapshot and was so well known for checking guys hard into the boards they called him the God of Thunder), the Toronto Wolverines (who scared the shit out of everyone else in the league by playing through injuries like they weren’t even human), and the unholy, much-hated Detroit Hydras. 

Sure, Bucky liked to fantasize about making it to the post-season but in reality… he knew they were the runts in that particular playground.

“We won’t be top three,” Bucky muttered to Steve. “I know we’re supposed to pretend that we’re in it to win it, but between you and me we can be realistic, Steve. This is not our year.”

“Maybe not, but there’s always the wildcards. Why even lace up our skates if we don’t think we can win? We’re either going out there to try our best or we might as well just stay in our hotel rooms jerking off,” Steve whispered passionately. Bucky gnawed at his lip. 

Yeah, there were two wildcard slots in every post-season. Those went to the two next best teams in the league after the ones who had already passed muster. Traditionally, those teams only lasted one round, or maybe two. They never got close to the cup. This was definitely not something Bucky was interested in arguing with Steve about. 

In the wake of their falling out, Steve had thrown himself back into the game with a dedication that was certainly inspiring but also more than a little alarming. 

Even if they did make the postseason, and yeah, there was a longshot chance that could happen, there was no way in hell they’d actually win. Bucky was prepared to play the long game when it came to earning his future Stanley Cup rings, but he didn’t know how Steve, who was already three seasons deep without one, would handle that. Especially since, from what Bucky could observe, the man had nothing in his life except for hockey and Sarah Rogers.

...

Somehow, between all the fluff pieces they had to sit through together, and the charity events that took up their every day between practices and games, Steve and Bucky started working out together. Most of the team worked out together, given that they all had the same hours and similar routines and the state-of-the-art fitness center at the First Niagara Center which was designed solely for them.

But Bucky and Steve spotted for each other when they were lifting and competed to see who could finish their assigned miles the fastest and were very obviously working together in a way that not all the other guys were.

The marketing and media teams ran them ruthlessly to make sure everyone in Buffalo knew they were a wholesome and inseparable duo. It was so emotionally exhausting for them both that they ended up spending more and more time with the only people around them who could really understand how strange and taxing the experience was. Each other.

Bucky and Steve started sitting next to each other on the stationary bikes, trading playlists- Steve was into a lot more punk and metal than Bucky would have guessed, and Bucky’s classic rock, Coldplay, Britney, and Beyonce were for the most part totally new to his captain. 

They didn’t have that too-easy intimacy that they’d discovered when they first met. There wasn’t that seductive flammable chemistry that pulled them together and then ripped them apart and threw them wildly into opposite corners. There was something more solid between them now. A foundation was being laid, brick by brick. Bucky was sealing his hurt at Steve’s rejection under those bricks like some unfortunate wife out of Edgar Allen Poe. He was determined to be the friend Steve needed and let all the could have been's and why not's stay rotting out of sight and out of mind.

...

It was a cheat day after a charity event at the Roswell Park Cancer Institute. Being in a ward full of children with cancer was enough of an excuse, Bucky had argued, for one fucking Macchiato with whip and caramel drizzle, nutrition plan be damned.

“Oh my god, you’re him!” a girl shrieked behind Bucky. He turned around with his perfect smile in place, glad to meet a fan but also thinking longingly of his Macchiato. “The gay one!” the girl shouted gleefully. All the color drained from Bucky’s face at once, taking his smile with it. He could even feel Steve stiffen at his side.

“What?” Bucky said flatly. The girl didn’t seem to notice. Her hair was blue, her shirt was artistically ripped, and her canvas belt was rainbow print. She must have been fifteen or sixteen. It wasn’t bigotry, but beyond that, what she was saying and why she was saying it were a total mystery to Bucky.

Barely containing her smile, the girl pointed to the tv playing across the shop. Bucky’s heart stopped. There was no sound but the image alone was enough.

There was Dan Jovovich, sitting across from some famous blond reporter in a baby blue sweater. He was smiling sweetly and telling the world about that time Bucky blew him and then fucked him into a sloppy mess after a few too many shots of cherry vodka at a homecoming after-party.

Bucky’s biggest mistake just got cosmically bigger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter just to break me out of my funk of not writing. Thanks to Res and Sula for the metaphor advice <3

Distantly, Bucky felt the searing splash of his macchiato on his shin, seeping through his shoes. Steve’s voice beside him was dim and distorted, as though someone was holding Bucky’s head underwater.

“This is so amazing!” the girl was saying. Had Bucky ever been that naive? God, he hoped not. “Are you gonna go to pride this year?” 

“We’re leaving,” Steve said firmly, loud enough for everyone to hear. A couple people had their cell phones out. Steve put his broad hand in the center of Bucky’s back and pushed him toward the exit. Bucky stumbled forward, blind, deaf, and dumb. He didn’t know how he would have gotten out of there without Steve to guide him.

Outside in the crisp early winter air, Bucky gasped and felt the air burn down his throat too cold after the humid warmth of the crowded Starbucks. 

“Just wait ‘till we get in the car,” he heard Steve muttering. Bucky knew he was being manhandled into Steve’s massive SUV but he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about the treatment.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket. Steve’s phone was playing obnoxiously loud big band music, distantly Bucky thought that must be his agent’s ring tone. Steve threw his phone over his shoulder and it bounced around somewhere in the back still blaring that same ring tone.

“Seat belt,” Steve said with eerie calm. Bucky buckled in and was instantly grateful that he did as Steve peeled off recklessly into traffic and started driving like he had a personal vendetta.  


“Where are we going?” Bucky asked, clutching the dash as Steve swerved sharply across two lanes of traffic to make a left turn. 

“First I’m taking you home,” Steve said with that same eerily calm voice, “and then I’m going down to the news station to give each and every one of those rat bastards a piece of my mind.” 

“Oh God, Steve, please don’t make this worse!” Bucky begged. “You need to calm the fuck down. Our agents are going to batten down the hatches for the whole team and then it’ll probably just be avoid-and-deny for a few weeks. It’ll be fine. It’s not like he has any proof.”

Steve glanced at Bucky quickly and then refocused on the road. An awkward moment stretched out between them. “What he’s saying, I mean... did you actually hook up with him?” 

“Steve, please,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes a little amused at Steve’s poorly hidden jealousy despite himself. “It was homecoming. I’d had half a bottle of vodka and the guy threw himself at me. It wasn’t my proudest moment but I was discreet about it. It wasn’t like we fucked in the middle of the football field.” 

“So you didn’t, you know, date him or anything.” Steve kept his eyes very firmly on the road, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Bucky couldn’t help the amused way he looked over at Steve, even given the circumstances. 

“Honey my standards are so much higher than that,” Bucky said, letting his eyes drag down Steve’s physique, hinted at alluringly beneath his tailored button down and slacks. The way Steve’s cheeks reddened like he’d been slapped was incredibly satisfying.

He took a deep breath then and squared his shoulders. “Take us to the office,” he told Steve.

“You sure?” Steve asked. “We don’t have to walk into the lion’s den this second. Fury, Hill, and Erskine can wait until you have time to chill out a little.”

“I know you aren’t exactly familiar with being in the eye of a media shitstorm _Captain America_ but this can’t wait. We need to do damage control as of yesterday. And weren’t you the one who was all set to storm channel seven a minute ago?” Bucky asked fiddling with the radio to tune out the big band music that would not stop coming from the back of the SUV.

“Hey,” Steve said, blushing like a tomato, “that was extremely poor journalistic practice going on there. They have a moral obligation, a journalistic integrity that they need to-” Bucky’s laughter cut Steve off. Steve couldn’t help but grin at the kid. After the way he’d acted in the Starbucks it was good to see him laugh. 

“Listen,” Steve said. “If you’d wanted to come out that would be one thing but they can’t just out you based on the word of some two-bit high school punk in a Nordstrom sweater, okay? It’s not right.” 

The way Steve spoke, with such conviction that his nostrils flared, the mulish set of his chin when he hunkered down in his seat like he was getting ready for Bucky to fight him, all of it was incredibly endearing. Bucky swallowed thickly for a moment before he could manage to reply like a normal human being.

“Just take me back to your place, okay?” Bucky said. What had started out as wet sloppy snow a few hours ago was now huge drops of freezing rain, falling like shards of glass from the smokey gray sky above them. Buffalo weather was always pretty extreme, but this felt like the kind of absolutely shitty weather that could only herald absolutely shitty things like what had just happened. I was kind of satisfying in the way that pain could be satisfying sometimes.

Steve didn’t say anything, just put on his turn signal and let the sound of the windshield wipers and the radio cover over the sound of their ceaseless phones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos always welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'ed as per usual.

It was pouring by the time they made it home- to Steve’s house, Bucky mentally corrected himself. Ever since the “hockey home makeover 2k16”, as the guys on the team called it, Steve’s place had kind of become the center of team life outside of the First Niagara Center. 

It had definitely become the center of Bucky’s life. It had crept in on him, happening so slowly that he hadn’t even noticed it, but he and Steve had slid together again, creeping into all the cracks in each other’s lives. Bucky went back to the Morita’s house to sleep and babysit, and sometimes have dinner with the family, but while he was at the Morita's there was always some tiny corner of his brain that was wondering what Steve was doing and when they would get to hang out again.

Things hadn’t been perfect between them by a long stretch but the awkwardness of their friendship was like a split lip; the more it healed the more Bucky felt the urge to worry at it with his teeth.

“We need fresh clothes,” Steve said, kicking off his shoes on the mat and hanging up his jacket. They were both soaked from the walk inside the house, so heavy was the downpour.

“If you could find your garage door opener we wouldn’t have this problem,” Bucky grumbled halfheartedly. He watched Steve flip him off with a tired kind of playfulness and disappear deeper into the house leaving faint damp footprints in his wake.

He wandered into Steve’s master bath and grabbed a couple clean towels for the both of them.

In truth, the icy rain had felt good to Bucky. It was cleansing. It woke him up at a time when he desperately needed clarity. He knew the last thing they should be doing was hiding out at Steve’s place. They should both be on the phone with their agents, having grim absurd conversations with Nick about the direction the PR campaign would have to take.

Somehow Bucky doubted this “bosom buddies, close as blood brothers” angle would last long . No one on the Commandos and certainly no one in the mysterious and bureaucratic NHL hierarchy would want their hero, Captain America’s, brand to be tarnished with gay rumors. 

The thought sent a wave of melancholy through Bucky. He knew it was good for the brand. He knew that was how the League made money, by selling stories, selling action, selling masculinity. But he and Steve had just really started to become friends and it wasn’t fair. 

Bucky nearly ran into Steve as he came out of the master bath. He hadn’t even heard Steve walk into the bedroom while he was absorbed in contemplating life in front of the linen cabinet.

“Here,” Steve said, holding out a warm looking pair of sweats and a t-shirt. 

“Um, let’s go in the living room,” Bucky said, trying to ignore the way the last of the rainwater rolled ever so slowly down Steve’s cheek. 

“Oh,” Steve said, “good idea. I’ve got something for you there, anyway.”

“What?” Bucky asked, totally at a lost. When Steve had had the time to buy Bucky a present was totally beyond him. And why was another question altogether.

Steve reached for the end table drawer next to the couch and pulled out a tiny shopping bag. He handed it to Bucky with a nervous little smile.

Bucky peered inside and saw two packs of hair bands. One in black and another in assorted colors. Bucky was superstitious about cutting his hair during the season. It drove his step-mother crazy but rad flow (ie players not cutting their hair so that it flowed out behind them when they skated) was a staple of hockey life.

“You’re always leaving yours around here,” Steve said, shrugging.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, tucking his hair behind his ear and setting the bag down. His hair was barely just long enough for the ties now but he liked to keep one around his wrist and twist it around his fingers when he was bored, or just thinking. It was a thoughtful gift.

“I’ll use one when my hair dries,” Bucky said, taking the sweats from Steve’s tight grip and letting his cold fingers brush against Steve’s warm ones. 

“You’re freezing!” Steve said, resting the back of his hand against Bucky’s chilly cheek. “I’m gonna make you some hot chocolate while you change. Wait here.” And then, much to Bucky’s displeasure, Steve slipped from the room and out of sight. Bucky wasted no time in shucking off his damp shirt and trousers. He heard Steve rummaging around in the kitchen as he stepped into the warm clean clothes.

In a moment of weakness, Bucky tucked his head down and pressed his face into his shoulder, smelling the laundry detergent Steve used. He fantasized for a moment about what it might be like to wake up in Steve’s arms again. To feel that warmth and solidity around him, holding him together and keeping him safe. Bucky sighed, running his fingers through damp his hair. If only he knew how to get to that place again.

By the time bucky got back from dumping his sopping clothes in Steve’s hamper the captain had returned from the kitchen and was waiting for him in the living room.

“I added little marshmallows,” Steve said with a small grin as he emerged from the kitchen. Bucky let his head tip to the side a little as he smiled at Steve. It was so hard not to fall in love with Steve Rogers. No wonder he’d never heard a bad word about the guy. Even from the press. It was impossible to Bucky that anyone could look at Steve, could be around him for five minutes, and not fall in love with him. It wasn’t even falling- more like floating, calm and safe, the way loose feathers moved through the air.

Bucky held out his hands, loving how the warmth of the cup seared through his cold fingers as soon as he came into contact with the mug. That’s what Bucky needed, physical sensations to drown out all the circling anxiety and maddening noise inside his head. Not to mention the comfort of Steve caring for him.

Bucky took a little sip of the cocoa, thick and rich the way it only ever was when made with milk,and caught one of the half-melted marshmallows on his tongue. He savored the sweetness of it and the way watching him lit up Steve’s eyes with a warmth that Bucky had been missing.

He gently set the mug down on the coffee table. Steve was there, warm and solid and not a step away. He would make everything alright, Bucky was sure of it. One way or another. Even if they weren’t allowed to see each other outside of the rink for a while.

Bucky stepped forward, laying his newly warmed fingers against the hollows under Steve’s cheek bones, and drew their mouths together into a slow, comforting kiss. Steve’s broad hands found Bucky’s hips, holding him, just holding him where he was. 

After a few long moments of just pressing their lips together and breathing each other in, Steve pulled back far enough to rest his forehead against Bucky’s.

“I thought we had this all figured out,” Steve said, his voice rough as he wound his arms tighter around Bucky, pulling them flush together. 

“Guess not,” Bucky whispered. When Steve was silent a moment too long, not agreeing to renegotiate their relationship status as Bucky had foolishly hoped, he hurried to add, “You’ve gotta take comfort where you can find it,” Bucky mumbled against Steve’s lips. “And I found you. And I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”

“Then I won’t let you go either,” Steve promised, pulling Bucky into a tight hug. Bucky pressed against Steve, feeling his gentle heat and the smooth curves of him that were so unyielding with muscle.

Steve rubbed one of his big hands along Bucky’s spine, rocking them side to side just a little as Bucky breathed against his neck. This, this was what Bucky needed. Like a starving man at a buffet, Bucky just couldn’t get enough.

He whined embarrassingly when Steve pulled away a few moments later but Steve just pulled him down to the couch with a little smile. Laying half on top of Steve, it was a surprise when he felt the afghan being tucked around them both. Steve had pulled it off of the back of the couch where it held the place of honor since his grandmother had made it for him years ago.

Bucky heard Steve clicking through menus on his TV and then the opening scenes of The Princess Bride started playing.

Hot chocolate, cuddles, hair ties, and one of Bucky’s favorite movies. He’d never felt so taken care of, so precious to someone. It was all he could do not to cry.   
Somehow, it was simultaneously one of the best and worst days of Bucky’s life.

…

Bucky didn’t wake up when Morita let himself in. It was Steve’s soft, “Hey, over here,” that made Bucky grumble and try to bury his face deeper between Steve’s gorgeous pecs.

“Come on, stop it,” Steve said in a much quieter, more embarrassed tone of voice.”

“Whaaa?” Bucky said, pulling back from where he’d drooled on Steve’s tits far enough to see that Morita was looking down at the both of them with a mixture of amusement and concern.

“There are a lot of people looking for you Buck,” Morita said as Bucky mopped at his face with one hand and tried to get his bearings through the hazy disorientation of one who was not quite awake.

“Fuck. Manager called you?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Only a few dozen times,” Morita said. “And Fury. Everyone is freaking the fuck out. You can’t bury your head in the sand for this one, kid. You gotta come out with some kind of statement or that sweater-wearing douchebag will be the only one telling his side of the story.” Bucky groaned and shoved his face back in Steve’s cleavage.

“You’re sure I can’t just stay here forever?” Bucky asked, his voice muffled by cotton and exceptional pecs. 

“And miss our next game against the Iron Men?” Steve asked, petting Bucky’s head while Morita looked on with growing concern.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, extracting himself and sitting up. “I usually love it when you make a good point.” 

“I’m gonna drive you home and we’ll get you some better clothes to wear so it doesn’t look like I’ve just chauffeured you from a booty call and then we’ve got to go into the office,” Morita said. 

“Hey,” Steve said, frowning. “This isn’t. Look it was raining, okay? Bucky was upset. That’s all.”

“Sure, champ,” Morita said a little too gamely. “I’m not here to play nanny, okay? I’m not about to tell you guys what to do, or what this looks like. You’re both adults, even if one of your is barely eighteen," Morita said with a pointed look at Steve, "But you’re also both Commandos and I really don’t think the team can afford for either of you to be suspended right now. Especially with Bucky on Pierce’s shit-list over this lying asshole’s story. So whatever you do, just think it through before you do it, okay?” Morita sent another pointed look to Steve, as if the whole situation were somehow his fault.

“I would _never_ put the team at risk,” Steve said indignantly. “Bucky needed me and I’m not going to apologize for that. Neither of us has done anything wrong.” And there was that famously stubborn set to Steve's jaw which meant he was good and ready to dig his heels in over this. 

“Okay, can we stop talking about me like I’m a five-year-old who isn’t even in the room?” Bucky said, getting salty about every aspect of the conversation. He stood up and grabbed the little bag of hair ties that Steve had left on the end table. 

“Steve, thanks for everything. We’ll talk later, okay?” Steve nodded and so Bucky turned to Morita. “Let’s go.”

“Great,” Morita said. “The sooner this is over and done with, the better.” 

Steve sat up watched them leave and then waited until he heard the engine roaring to life before he hung his head and dug his fingers in his hair. He’d been doing so good. Staying away but still being friendly, keeping his hands to himself.

He shouldn’t have let Bucky kiss him. He shouldn’t have suggested cuddling on the couch. He was obviously leading the poor guy on but he just couldn’t seem to help himself. It was all he could do not to ravage the rookie, especially when he was all wet like that, his perfectly tailored clothes clinging to every curve and sharp angle of his sculpted body. 

And Bucky would let him. Bucky would beg him to do it. Knowing that made the temptation so much worse- not just a lust, but an ache in his chest for all the things he could have with Bucky if only things were different. Steve had never really been in a long term relationship. The only person he’d felt anything like this for in the past was a woman nearly twice his age who was already married when he met her. That made things a lot simpler.

His situation with Bucky should have been that simple, but somehow it wasn’t. Steve told himself again and again that he had power over Bucky, as an older guy, a veteran and a captain, he was in a position of authority. It was up to him to be the responsible party. To not be the cradle robber who made Bucky's life ten times harder by having to lie to everyone, even his teammates. 

Steve tried to tell himself that again, knowing as he did now how starved for affection and validation Bucky obviously was. Steve supposed he’d just have to find a way of taking care of the guy he cared about that didn’t involve (or devolve into) sex. Couldn’t be that hard, right?

…

The ride to Morita’s house was tense and silent with only the chugging of the aircon set to max heat to break the quiet.

“I can’t believe you said that to Steve,” Bucky said suddenly. “You know I came onto him, right?” Bucky said. He hadn’t come out to Morita before but there had been hints, intentional ones to test the waters, and clearly his host wasn’t shocked.

“Your point being?” Morita said, not looking away from the slushy road.

“He turned me down. Flat out said it was friends or nothing. The guy is _made_ of virtue. It took me nearly having a panic attack to even get a fucking cuddle okay?” Bucky’s cheeks were reddening. He could feel the heat of it and he hated it. 

“I don’t care if that makes me sound pathetic I knew what I wanted and I went after it. _I_ did, not Steve,” he said, setting his chin stubbornly. “So don’t ever try to lecture Steve like that again.”

“Are you trying to boss me around, rookie?” Morita said incredulously. “Because that was my nice speech. If you’re getting this defensive, maybe it really is time for the shovel talk. You've been in the Leauge for half a season. You were in fucking high school earlier this year. Your _captain_ shouldn't be anywhere near you. Not like that, anyway.” For the first time, it occurred to Bucky that Morita wasn't just being disapproving. He was turning his fatherly instincts on Bucky, the kid who lived in his house and ate dinner with his family. The kid whose sex life was currently being scrutinized but half of America. They were both so caught up in their own experience of the situation that neither had paused to fully consider the other's point of view.

“Jim,” Bucky said, serious and imploring. “This is important to me, okay? Nothing is going on between us. I’ve got my eyes wide open here. Our friendship, me and Steve’s, it’s something that gives me hope. It's like, even though I know this thing with Steve couldn't work right now even if he would agree to give it a shot, it's the first time I felt like... like there was a chance for me. Just, a chance for me to be that close with someone, someone who finally got it. So don’t say anything to him, please. He's such a Catholic guilt vacuum that any little thing could tip the balance with him and then I wouldn’t have-” Bucky cut himself off because that felt like too much to admit. 

“He understands me,” Bucky tried again. “Better than anyone. And I need that right now. I don't need him freaking out and ignoring my calls, okay?”

“Okay,” Morita sighed. “Just don’t make me regret this, kid.”

“I won’t,” Bucky lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are very much encouraged!
> 
> I will try to update more often but I can't make any promises.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to the Sisterhood of the Dropping Pants and Especially to the fabulous Res for reading this over for me!
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

Bucky closed the door behind him and let out a long breath. He felt the tears behind his eyes but he just took another long breath and didn’t let them fall. He refused to give Dan Jovovich, of all fucking people, the satisfaction of making him cry, even if he’d never actually know about it.

The kid had always been arrogant- good looking and stupid as a result- but Bucky could never have predicted that his chronic need for attention would go so far as to dredge up a nothing night from two years ago.

Bucky still didn’t feel brave enough to check his phone. All he wanted to do was curl up in his inviting blankets- a distant but still appealing second to sleeping snugly in Steve’s arms- and forget that any of this had ever happened. 

Still, Bucky forced himself to take out his cell and unlock it. There were all the usual missed calls, texts, and emails, from his agent and Nick and Coulson. But there among the scattered names of his teammates and friends was a single voicemail from his dad. Bucky couldn’t breathe but the anticipation of not knowing would be so much worse so he opened it and-

“ _Bucky?_ ” his dad said, strangely questioning, as if he hadn’t just called his son and gotten his voicemail. “ _Listen, we’re gonna fight this thing, okay champ? I know things might seem bad right now, but these things blow over. Me and Eliza, we’ve got your back and you know that. We’re on your team. No matter what. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say._ ”

The voicemail beeped and the woman’s robotic voice started reading off options for Bucky to select but he was too stunned to do so. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from George “Men Should Be Men” Barnes, but it hadn’t been that.

There was nothing from Eliza, strangely enough. If there was one person whose guidance he needed, it was hers. He supposed it was probably like midnight in Hong Kong or Taiwan or Tokyo or wherever she was in her pan-Asian journey at the moment.

Bucky’s mother had texted a few times, though offering her usual mix of support and dick jokes. It should have been flippant and insensitive but coming from Wini it only served to make Bucky appreciate how ridiculous the situation truly was.

Bolstered by his family’s well-intentioned messages, Bucky set about changing for the meeting. Mindful of the probability of press coverage of his every move, Bucky tried to choose something relaxed but still polished.

Morita knocked on Bucky’s door. The rookie straightened up and practiced his bashful, befuddled, but still charming smile in the mirror. 

That was his cue.

...

The conference room had a strong chemical scent when Bucky walked in. It was late. He supposed most of the building must have been shut up and cleaned before Fury got the call that Morita was bringing Bucky in.

“What we have here is a motherfucking situation. Are you listening to me, Barnes?” Fury demanded.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, looking away from the walls painted in the Commandos’ bold colors and hung with noteworthy news clippings and magazine covers in class cases. 

“ I don’t think you’re taking this seriously. Have you even seen what’s on social media?” Fury said, tossing a dossier of papers at Bucky’s manager, Anthony. Bucky pulled the file towards himself and hesitantly opened it. 

The first few pages were graphs and charts, tracking his favorability ratings and instances of hate speech in the same tweet as his name, per hour. After that was a two-page, double-spaced written analysis of the situation which Bucky immediately set aside. Behind that was the bulk of it- printouts of the most popular and notable tweets, a threat assessment, and a list of celebrities and media personalities who had already come out in Bucky’s corner coupled with the position they had taken.

Pertinent excerpts from the Players’ Association and the League had been printed, highlighted, and included in the very back, as though someone was hoping he wouldn’t actually look at them. 

“You use social media?” Bucky asked skeptically. Fury turned his one eye critically on Bucky and said,

“You just shut the hell up and do what I tell you. Your poor taste in one night stands is what got us into this mess so you don’t get to judge anyone in this room. Especially given that all of us are here trying to save your ass.” Bucky scowled, chagrined. What a load of bullshit, he thought. Apparently, LGBTQ players were the only ones whose mistakes mattered. There were no press conferences when other players had one night stands, or cheated on their wives, or got caught out doing some other stupid thing.

“That’s _not_ fair,” Anthony said, sticking up for Bucky immediately. “This is an extraordinary situation and there’s absolutely no excuse for you to take out your frustration on Bucky. This isn’t a game, this is his life. You take that tone with him again and my client and I will walk.” Bucky looked to Anthony, really seeing him for the first time. 

Anthony had always spoken to Bucky like he was a man who was smart enough and mature enough to handle his own decisions in business. His protectiveness now didn’t make Bucky feel diminished or childish the way Morita’s loving scolding had done. It was more like when one of his teammates saw a bad check coming and knocked Bucky out of the way, or pulled him out of a scrum in front of the goalie’s net.

It helped Bucky sit up a little straighter when he saw how Anthony, who was only fifteen years older than him, got so riled and came so readily to Bucky’s defense.

“I think we might have gotten a little off topic,” Coulson, the marketing and public relations manager for the Commandos, said. “There are a lot of people rooting for this ‘love affair’. Activist groups, advocacy centers, all kinds of organizations. Some of them we’ve been contacted by already and some we haven’t. 

“The important thing is to get ahead of this and have a clear and consistent message going forward. We can’t afford to delay any more. There are already four other NHL teams who have publicly commented- mostly through social media- about this situation. Let me reiterate that, rival teams have commented on the personal life of one of our players before we could respond to the story. That is not good.” There were grim faces all around the table. 

“First of all, there is no love affair. There never was, nor will there ever be a love affair. Those words have absolutely no place in this discussion,” Bucky said. From the corner of his eye, he could see Anthony nodding and he felt even more emboldened.

“We need to decide what the next step should be. Obviously, we need a public comment, I think, but what the fuck do we even say? ‘Sorry guys, Barnes isn’t really into dicks, this has all been a giant misunderstanding. Don Jovovich only _thought_ he got nailed behind the bleachers at homecoming?’” 

“Language,” Coulson said, in a mild reproof. It was all Bucky could do not to roll his eyes at the deceptively mild-mannered man.

“You’re the one who sets up all of mine and Steve’s publicity things, right?” 

“Yes. Exactly,” Coulson said, pleased. “And that’s what I wanted to discuss.”

“You don’t want Steve to be seen with the leper, do you?” Bucky said, unkindly. His worst fears were on the brink of coming true.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Coulson continued in that same calm voice. “Actually, I was going to suggest that having the two of you continue to be seen together, to be seen as best friends who remain close, would help the situation. It would be an act of unspoken support from Steve, who has already made his opinions on LGBTQA+ inclusion in the League very clear in previous interviews.” Fury made a grumpy noise.

“That might just be a good idea,” Fury said. “But first we have to craft the official statement. It’ll be complete bullshit of course, but the sooner we get it out the better. We need to deny everything and toe the company line better than a fucking Bolshoi prima ballerina. We can’t give Alex Pierce a single fucking reason to suspend one of our star players. We just can’t afford that, not this season.” 

“I completely disagree,” Coulson said at once without raising his voice. “We need to call Pierce on his bluff. If James comes out and asks for the public’s support then we’ll have backed him into a corner. There’s no scandal to punish him for. They were both underage and James never publicly disclosed the information willingly. Any punishment Pierce wants to exact will be seen as petty and intolerant.” Fury glared at Coulson, who stared back unperturbed.

“You’re a smart guy but sometimes I fucking hate the way you think. We can’t afford to fuck around with this. Why risk a suspension? We need to nip this shit in the bud.”

“Bucky,” Anthony asked, turning to his client seriously. “What do you want to do about this?” 

“How likely is Pierce to suspend me if I came out?” Bucky said. 

“Unfortunately,” Anthony said, “Very. The man’s a known hardliner and a politically active conservative with ties to the alt-right.”

“Or as we used to call them,” a gentle lightly accented German voice sounded from the doorway, “Nazis.”

“Mr. Erskine,” Fury said, nodding to the owner of the commandos as he came into the room with his wife Ana. 

“Welcome to the meeting, sir,” Coulson greeted the man with a little smile.

“It’s nice to have been invited,” Erskine said mildly, looking around the table and letting his raised eyebrows and little smile show that he wasn’t happy that they started without him, even if he wasn’t going to make a big deal about it. Mr. Erskine pulled a chair out for Ana and then sat beside her.

“Now what were we saying about intolerance?” Mr. Erskine asked.

“Well,” Coulson said, clearing his throat, “If Mr. Pierce does choose to invoke the indecency clause in the contract the odds that it will actually damage the League long term are slim. Sports fans will show up as long as there’s a good game on. Many scandals over the decades attest to that,” Coulson said. 

“And to my deep regret and eternal embarrassment, many of them may even agree with his stance. If he wanted to get away with it, he would have to call this a sex scandal. He would have to say that you’re damaging the League by bringing it negative attention and public stories of your underage sexcapades. 

“The Players’ Association will fight that horse shit,” Fury assured Barnes, “And odds are they’ll win. But it won’t win you any favors from Alex and it’ll be a hot mess in the media. Save yourself the trouble, kid. Just do what the man up top tells you.”

“So what exactly are my options?” Bucky said desperately. “How do I do the least damage to my career?”

“Deny everything,” Fury repeated firmly. “And then reaffirm your very impressive and prolific heterosexuality. Thank the League and Pierce for supporting you. And then appeal to the crowd by getting indignant about reporters and the public invading your very private life so sexualize you a few months after you turned eighteen.”

“Admit you slept with him, say that you’re proud to be gay and a Christian and emphasize how supportive your family, church, and teammates have been of you during this time,” Coulson advised. 

“Force Pierce’s hand. Don’t let him bully you around inside the closet for the rest of your career. If you publicly denounce the idea that you aren’t straight it will only come back to bite you years down the line when you do want to come out for your own sake. You might as well get it all over with now. Avoid being seen as a hypocrite, or ashamed.”

Bucky ran his hands through his hair. Neither of those options sounded particularly appealing. Fuck.

“You don’t seem happy with those options,” Ana Erskine said, in intentional understatement. “So maybe you shouldn’t take either of them.”

“Then what should I do?” Bucky asked. Anna shrugged and turned to her husband. She was a mathematician, not a press wizard.

“Make the choice you can live with,” Mr.Erskine said. “Listen to your heart, not the men around this table. None of them have ever been in your shoes. So what is your heart telling you, Bucky?” Bucky smiled sheepishly.

“It’s telling me I want to punch the guy who caused all this in the face. And also that even if I deny everything there will still be people who believe it. You know what?” Bucky said suddenly. “I’ve been so worried about Pierce and my career I haven’t even had time to be angry. **Fuck** that guy, pardon my French Mrs. Erskine.” Ana just waved him off, she’d lived through more than one war in her lifetime and she’d seen, heard, and said much worse.

“I don’t want to let Jovovich win, touting himself as my boyfriend on national tv and pretending he has any kind of place in my life. Telling our fucking touching coming out story, like he’s doing me a favor. I’m not gonna let him win, or Pierce for that matter. They can’t take my career, or my pride, or any part of my life. I built this, I **earned** this. He can’t have it.”

“Then I guess you have your answer,” Erskine said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are the sprinkles on my cupcake you guys :D


	5. Chapter 5

“. . . more from Tina Takanowa, who is reporting live from the press room at the First Niagara Center. Tina,” the smarmy reporter said. The screen switched over to the vulgar flashing of cameras, the heads of reporters just visible Bucky sat in the middle of the press table, surrounded by notable figures from the Commandos’ organization, including Fury, Hill, Erskine, and Coulson.

  
“Thank you, Jim,” Tina said into her microphone, looking over her shoulder at Bucky as he bit his lip and shuffled some papers in front of him. “It looks like Barnes is about to make a statement. Will he address the question everyone has on their minds? Let’s listen, now.” Tina turned away from the camera and the cameraman zoomed in on Bucky.

Bucky took a deep breath and looked across the room to where his manager Anthony was talking sternly to some reporters with steno pads. Anthony nodded at Bucky and so did the elderly Mr. Erskine from where he sat near the end of the table, drinking from a large thermos of what Steve was reasonably sure was vodka.

Mr. Erskine wasn't a habitual drinker but on particularly stressful occasions he would occasionally indulge. Mr. Erskine was like a grandpa to Steve, who was, therefore, privy to those kinds of insider secrets that most of the Commandos didn't know. 

Steve had only seen the elderly team owner drink twice before. Suddenly, he very much wished he'd insisted on being included on the pre-presser meeting. As Bucky's captain, of course.

Bucky cleared his throat and Steve found himself sitting further on the edge of his couch. His living room was dark except for the glow of the tv. The tv that bucky had insisted that Steve needed, in the living room that bucky had turned from a barren bland mess into a home. Steve wanted nothing more than to snatch Bucky away from the cameras and the questions and the entire world and just cacoon them together in the safety and the darkness.

“I’m going to make a brief statement now,” Bucky read from the page in front of him, his voice wooden and a little unsure. “I won’t be taking questions after my statement, in the interests of time.

“The other day there was a news story about my personal life, which was aired without my permission. At no point was I ever contacted by a reporter or news organization in any kind of attempt to verify the facts of that story.

“If anyone at the station had bothered to contact me they would have learned what I am telling you now: the person who is now publicly claiming to be involved in my life isn’t and never was. Though we did know each other briefly when I was in high school four years ago, that person is not now, and never was my boyfriend. I don’t want there to be any confusion on this point. Whatever his reasons for pulling this stunt, the fact is that he lied about me and he mislead all of you.

“That is all I have to say on that subject at this time. Because of my contractual obligations to the League through the agreement reached between Commissioner Peirce and the NHL Players’ Association, I will not be acknowledging this story any further going forward. I hope that all of you will follow my lead and not allow this misinformation to spread any further. Thank you.” Bucky looked up from his papers for the first time in his speech.

When Bucky finished he looked up. For a second his eyes caught the camera and it was like he was looking straight through it, right to Steve. In that brief glimpse of the real Bucky Steve could see relief and a kind of giddy elation that came when one got away with something. He'd been walking a fine line but he never really discussed his own sexuality. He hadn't lied, not once, but he hadn't revealed more than he wanted to either.

Steve took a deep breath and noticed that his hands were gripped together so hard that his knuckles were turning white. He disengaged his grip one finger at a time and heard something pop in his wrist.

The Commandos' reps were all shuffling between the table and chairs toward the exit of the stage. Bucky was right there in the middle of the herd as if being protected from view by the others.

“But are you gay?!” one of the reporters called out. It sounded like it came from the corner of the room where Anthony had been lecturing someone. Everyone froze, and the entire room was so silent you could have heard a snowflake land.

“Are you single?” a female reporter called out. “Because I'm available if you're interested and if not, my brother made me swear to tell you he’d break up with his girlfriend in a heartbeat if you’re ever looking.”

“I’m no homewrecker!” Bucky said with one of his signature smiles, making the entire crowd erupt in laughter. Well, the whole crowd except for the suddenly very serious looking officials who were escorting Bucky.

Steve felt his stomach drop at the exact same time as she saw a flash of terror cross Bucky’s face before he stifled it with another one of his patented camera-wowing smiles.

One smart comment. One smart comment might be all it took to get him suspended.

 

* * *

 

“Fuck,” Bucky said, pulling at his hair and pacing his hotel room.

He’d needed some time away from Morita, who loved him and meant well but who couldn’t help treating Bucky like a kid sometimes. And Bucky wanted to be alone with the bottle of Irish whiskey Anthony had slipped him with a muttered,

“Don’t make me regret this Buck-o.”

Bucky gnawed at his already raw lip, thumbing over Steve’s contact info in his phone. He could call. Steve would probably answer. It was only 9pm. They had practice tomorrow but no game for another two days. Maybe he could even sweet talk Steve into a little over-the-phone funny business.

No. Bucky shook his head and tossed the phone on the bed. He couldn’t do that to Steve. As much as he wanted to keep pushing the man’s boundaries Bucky knew that that would ultimately only make the situation worse for them both.

The last thing he wanted was to make Steve resent him, or find Bucky’s advances uncomfortable.

“Fuck,” Bucky said again, fumbling with the plastic wrapping around the complimentary disposable coffee cups at the hotel bar. The hotel itself was very nice with gleaming marble floors and a staff trained in the art of discretion. Bucky hadn’t chosen the swankiest suite, even though that’s what Bucky was used to.

When he thought of dropping a few G’s on a hotel just because he wanted some time alone Steve’s voice in his ear had convinced him there was no reason he couldn’t choose a more economical option.

After all, the voice had reasoned, most hockey players have a pretty short run compared to other people’s careers. And Bucky’s might be even shorter.

His phone started buzzing on the mattress and Bucky, startled, ripped the plastic around the cups too hard and they flew off and hit the wall, separating and rolling alone the floor in opposite directions.

“Fucking fantastic,” Bucky muttered, kicking one of the cups aside as he forced himself to cross the room and see who wanted something from him now. All he wanted to do was play some great hockey. He had no idea why everything else kept getting in the way.

Bracing himself for the worst, Bucky looked at the caller ID. Fingers trembling, Bucky swiped to accept the call.

“Hello?” Bucky said, cursing the little tremble in his voice.

“Ah, James,” Peirce’s smooth voice came over the line. “You’ve had a very eventful day, haven’t you son?”

“Um, yes sir,” James said, swallowing around the iceberg of fear that had lodged itself in his throat. “Thank you for calling, Sir,” Bucky said, reciting the lines he and Anthony had gone over in case this happened. “I really appreciate the League’s support in this difficult time.”

“James,” Peirce said seriously, like a teacher who was about to tell someone that ‘the dog ate it’ wasn’t a proper excuse for missing homework. “Let me make something abundantly clear to you. You don’t have my support. What you do have is my attention, and that is not something you ever want, do you understand? You were being such a good boy for us earlier in the year- you’re quite the heartthrob with the young ladies, you know. Even my own niece has your poster on her wall. That was good. This situation is decidedly not.

“Right now, James you have to make a choice. You can say no now and I will make sure you’re unplayable within the year. You'll be ostracized from every corner of the organization. Forget ever getting a favorable call from a ref. And the five-game suspension I'll hand out for your smart remark at the press conference today will look like a love bite compared to what will come down the pike. And once the Commandos realize why they're suddenly drowning in fines and penalties you won't last long there either. Erskine may be an idealist but he's also a businessman. Young stars are a dime a dozen these days and while I hate to toss away any player with a spark of talent, the whole of the League is more important than any one man.”

“Say no to what?” Bucky asked, swallowing thickly.

“Or you can say yes,” Pierce added seductively. “And I will make this entire mess go away. But you’ll owe me and one day, sooner or later, I’ll come calling to cash in on that chit. You probably won’t like what I’m going to ask you to do. It won’t be pleasant for you, to say the least, but the score will be even between us and no one will ever have to know about any of it. You’ll be one of our biggest stars. I'll make sure you rise to the top where a man of your talent and dedication really belongs.

"They may even retire your jersey one day, heavens knows the Commandos are short of heroes to laud over.”

“Can I have some time to think it over,” Buck asked, curling and uncurling his toes in the carpet, trying to figure out how to stall long enough to get ahold of Anthony, or Eliza, or his dad or _someone_ who could help him figure out what to do.

“No,” Peirce said simply as if Bucky had asked if it was raining out in California.

“Okay,” Bucky bit out, curling his arm around himself and regretting it even as he spoke the words. “Okay, just make it go away.”

“You got it, kid,” Pierce said, sounding very satisfied. “That was the first smart call you made a smart call today.” The line went dead.

Bucky looked down at his phone and felt like he was going to be sick. He was trembling all over. He didn’t know what to do.

He could call someone, he knew, but who? Eliza was still in Asia, and Anthony had specifically told him not to do anything stupid.

Before his brain could tell his fingers not to Bucky had somehow dialed Steve’s number and was pressing the phone up to his cheek.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered around where his teeth were biting at his cuticles.

“Bucky?” Steve asked. He didn’t sound sleepy even though everyone knew he always went to bed early like a 90-year-old man.

“Are you alone?” Bucky asked, trying to make his voice husky but failing entirely as it warbled and cracked at the end. God he just wanted to feel good. And if he couldn’t be in the middle of a high-stakes hockey game chasing after a flying puck then he wanted to be all wrapped up in Steve’s arms, where nothing else in the world mattered at all.

  
“Where are you?” Steve said, suddenly sounding more serious than Bucky had ever heard him outside the locker room.

  
“I’m in a hotel,” he found himself saying, rattling off the address for Steve from the complimentary stationary on the desk. “Please come get me,” Bucky found himself saying. “I thought I wanted to be alone but I don’t.”

  
“I’m coming baby, I’ve gotta hang up now so I can drive but I’m gonna be there before you know it oaky? Just stay right there.” Bucky’s breath hitched and he fought back tears. Steve called him baby. Steve was on his way, coming to get Bucky even though he’d broken down and called his Captain the first time the pressure turned up, like some scared kid at sleep away camp. Everything was going to be okay. Steve would take care of it. Take care of Bucky, too.

Steve was on his way, coming to get Bucky even though he’d broken down and called his Captain the first time the pressure turned up, like some scared kid at sleep away camp. Everything was going to be okay. Steve would take care of it. Take care of Bucky, too.

  
“Okay,” Bucky breathed into the phone, forcing himself to relax as best he could. “Okay, I’ll be here.” He hung up before Steve could say anything more and threw his phone back on the bed, returning to pacing the hotel room.

  
Logically, he knew he shouldn’t have done that. He was probably overreacting. Whatever Pierce had in mind- asking Bucky to throw a game or slip confidential information to rival teams or some other heinous thing- Bucky would deal with that when the time came. He ran his fingers through his already messed up hair and tried to think about what Eliza would say- look at the situation in a positive light.

  
Sure, he was screwed. And sure, he’d just compromised his morals out of fear and desperation but on the plus side Steve was coming over. And Bucky didn’t have to worry about being suspended from any games or being elbowed out of the League for being outed against his will. Almost all of his teammates had already offered him their support and now he knew that the Commandos organization was behind him, whether he ever did officially decide to come out or not.

  
He had his family, his career, his health, his looks, his money, and maybe, if he had his cards right, he could have Steve too. He knew in that instant that his hunger for the man wouldn’t be quietly tucked away forever, no matter what was on the line.

  
If he had to Bucky could wait for a better time, for another birthday to roll around and his rookie year to end so Steve didn’t feel like a cradle robber. But he was going to try. He would apply the same determination and single-minded dedication that won him hockey stardom to Steve. He would convince the man to take his shot with Bucky.

  
Even if things didn’t work out Bucky was certain they would both regret it for many years to come if they didn’t at least try.

  
He just had to learn to remember that in the face of Steve’s inevitable rejection and disappointment.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are enthusiastically welcomed! :D


End file.
